Penelope’s feeling of relief was replaced with anxiety and an overwhelming sense of being exposed. “So they’re both still out there.”
“Both?” Nadia said, looking confused. Penelope told her about the boy she’d seen guarding the front door.
“They’re gone,” Nadia mumbled the last words more to herself than anyone else.
“They can’t be,” Penelope said, startled by the feeling of tears welling up. She fought them back and watched a police officer study Sonya’s front door from the sidewalk. “I’m going to go tell him about the other boy,” Penelope said. “Make sure they know to look for two of them.”
Nadia just stared ahead. She lifted her wrist higher in the air and continued to massage it.
Chapter 3
“There were two,” Penelope said. “They worked together.”
The officer nodded as she spoke, his hands on his utility belt. They stood on the sidewalk outside the cafe a few steps away from where the ambulances were idling.
“So you got a good look at the suspects?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Penelope said. She focused on what she remembered about the boys, holding on to pieces of detail in her mind before they faded, the similarities and differences in their features. “And I don’t suspect anything, I know what they did. I saw them walking by on the sidewalk a few minutes before the attack.”
“Most likely casing the place, making their final plans before they made their move,” the officer said, looking at her curiously.
Penelope watched another officer open the cafe door and prop it with the rubber kickstand on the base. “There might be fingerprints on the door.”
The officer gave her a small smile. “Of course we’ll check for them. We’ll dust the whole place, matter of fact.”
Penelope ignored his slightly sarcastic response and let her gaze wander to the enclosed patio and the debris left behind, a colorful sea of overturned tables, menus, purses, placemats and napkins, phones, and smashed tableware. Her eyes fell on a dark blue backpack lying on its side under one of the tables. “He had a backpack on, too. I thought it was weird he kept it on, then I wondered if it was part of the plan.”
“Plan?” the officer asked.
“I don’t know, maybe he had weapons in there, or a bomb.”
The word bomb caused the officer’s expression to darken. “Or it was to collect the spoils of the robbery,” he said. He walked away from her and began talking in his radio, alerting the other members of the team to be on the lookout for a dark colored backpack.
Penelope saw Nadia leaning against the remaining ambulance, pressing an ice pack to her wrist and staring at the patio. She walked over and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Does it hurt?”
“No, I’ve been injured worse than this before. The man who stepped between me and that kid is the one who got hurt badly. He took all the blows to protect us.” Nadia’s eyes were glassy and held a faraway look.
“I hope his injuries aren’t too severe,” Penelope said.
Nadia stiffened and shifted away from her touch, still staring at the cafe. Penelope pulled her hand away.
“When are they going to let us back in to get our things?” Nadia asked. “My bag...my phone, my keys, everything is still in there. They wouldn’t let us bring anything out with us.”
Penelope watched an officer place yellow numbered markers on the ground amid the broken glass and other items strewn across the patio. “They’re processing the scene now. They’re not going to want it disturbed until they document exactly what happened.”
“But why my things? I’m one of the victims,” Nadia said with a tinge of impatience.
“You know, they just can’t. It’s procedure.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen all the television shows,” Nadia said with a sigh.
Arlena approached them, supporting Mr. Eames as they made their way slowly over, her arm entwined with his. She got the attention of one of the paramedics and waved her over, pointing at the welt on Mr. Eames’ head.
“He’s still saying he doesn’t want any help,” Arlena said. “But it’s better to have someone look at it, right?” He shook his head carefully but followed her lead.
“Especially with a head injury,” Penelope said. She spotted Sonya speaking with one of the officers. “I’ll be right back.”
When Sonya saw Penelope approaching, her hands went to her cheeks. She hurried over and pulled Penelope into an embrace, her strong arms wrapping shakily around Penelope’s ribs.
“I’m so sorry,” Sonya said. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Penelope said. “We’re fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Ma’am?” the officer said, bringing her attention back to him. “You were saying?”
“Right,” Sonya said, releasing Penelope. “Like I said, I never saw those boys before, no time, never once in my place.”
The officer scribbled something on a notepad. A dark blue unmarked police car pulled up to the curb nearby and Penelope’s chest warmed. Her boyfriend, Detective Joseph Baglioni, stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. His eyes fell immediately on Penelope. She hurried to him and they met halfway on the sidewalk, stopping just short of an embrace.
“You hurt?” he asked. His expression was concerned, his jaw clenched.
Penelope shook her head. Tears pricked her eyes, and her throat closed up.
Joey’s face softened and he pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head quickly. Penelope pressed herself against his broad chest and closed her eyes, wishing the feeling of his arms around her could last forever. But it was just a quick squeeze before he pulled away. His expression hardened when he saw the cafe’s patio.
A woman in jeans and a brown leather blazer stepped from the passenger side of Joey’s car. “I’m heading inside,” she said as she stepped onto the curb next to them.
“I’ll be in shortly, after I get a briefing.” The woman nodded at him sharply, her eyes skimming across Penelope’s face as she passed.
“Who’s that?” Penelope asked. She watched the woman take long strides toward the front door, running her fingers through her cropped red hair before stepping inside.
“Detective Clarissa Hightower, my new partner,” Joey said flatly. “Just temporary, from what I hear. She’s mid-transfer, on her way to a sergeant’s desk in Newark. Something about us being shorthanded, and needing a department restructure. They’ve parked her at our station for a while until they fill a few more seats.”
Penelope couldn’t tell if the sharpness of his tone was due to his being annoyed by having a new partner, or if he was just worried about what happened at Sonya’s. Or both. He took Penelope gently by the arm and guided her to where Arlena and Nadia stood together on the sidewalk. A few feet away, Mr. Eames sat on the bumper of the ambulance, a paramedic shining a light in his eyes and asking him questions. Penelope watched him look behind her to where Sonya spoke to the officer on the sidewalk in front of her cafe.
“How are you doing?” Joey asked Arlena.
Arlena shrugged. “We’re lucky the police showed up when they did, and the kid didn’t have time to come after the rest of us out on the patio. Mr. Eames here was the first one attacked. He was sitting in the corner where the kid came over the fence.” She nodded toward her new friend who was speaking in an even voice with the EMT.
“That’s my table,” Mr. Eames said, interrupting the paramedic. “I always sit there.”
“Lieutenant Eames?” Joey asked, taking a few steps toward the ambulance.
“Retired,” Mr. Eames said. “Ten years now.”
“Detective Baglioni,” Joey said. The EMT looked over her shoulder back at Joey, who motioned for her to continue her treatment of the retired officer. She pressed a white cloth to Mr. Eames’ forehead, causing him to
wince. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Like the actress said,” Mr. Eames said, waving at Arlena. “Punk popped over the fence and knocked me one on the noggin. And down I went. I don’t know any more than that.”
Joey sighed. “Okay if I ask you a few more questions when they’re done fixing you up?”
“You can ask,” Mr. Eames said grumpily. “But I don’t know anything else.”
The EMT placed a white bandage over the cut on his head and Mr. Eames closed his eyes, dismissing Joey and any further questions. Joey turned back and introduced himself to Nadia who shook his hand limply and remained silent.
“I’m surprised they don’t have a way to enter and exit the patio,” Joey said, eying the pointed iron fence.
“It’s probably that way to keep their things safe,” Penelope said. “Not having easy access keeps people off the patio when the restaurant is closed. They don’t have to lock up their tables and chairs every night.”
“The people who were inside look like they’ve been through hell.” Arlena paused. “Sorry, Nadia,” she added.
Nadia cleared her throat. “It’s okay.” She cradled her wrist in the crook of her other arm, balancing the cold pack on top of it.
“If robbery was the motive,” Penelope said, “there are certainly easier targets than this one.” She thought about the pharmacy on the next block, the bodega, and the little coffee shop. They would all have been easier to get in and out of, and would have had less people inside to deal with. “What would make Sonya’s a target for them?”
“Lots of people with cash and wallets,” Joey said. “And the register, of course.”
“And run the risk of being trapped, and almost shot?” Penelope asked doubtfully. “Feels like pick pocketing people on the street would be less dangerous.”
“Whatever they were trying to do, they’re not going to get away with it,” Joey said. “So maybe they knew all along they were going to hit this cafe.”
“They got the money from the till, and then they started grabbing wallets,” Nadia said after clearing her throat.
“That’s what the backpack was for,” Penelope said. “I had a crazy thought that he had weapons or something else more dangerous in there.”
“He may have, I didn’t really see inside,” Nadia said.
“They were prepared,” Joey said. “And they came for a fight.”
“With big sticks,” Penelope said.
“And those who didn’t want to turn over their things, he’d just start hitting,” Nadia said matter-of-factly. She pressed a hand to her mouth as if she was feeling sick.
“Did either of them say anything you can remember?” Joey asked.
“The one with the stick kept saying ‘plate it’. I didn’t hear him say anything else,” Penelope said.
“He was saying the word ‘pay’ over and over,” Nadia said quietly. “In Russian, platit means pay.”
Arlena looked at her doubtfully. “Are you sure? I couldn’t tell what he was saying, to be honest. He just sounded crazy.”
“I heard what he said,” Nadia said, her eyes flashing. “I heard him.”
“Right, he was asking for your wallets,” Joey said, sighing.
“Did he seem to be asking anyone in particular?” Penelope asked.
Nadia shook her head. “He was taunting us, the owner, the cook from the kitchen. He sneered at us, threatened us.”
“He didn’t mention anyone by name, by any chance, did he?” Penelope asked.
“Not that I remember,” Nadia admitted.
“Okay. You’ve all been through a lot today. Why don’t you head home and I’ll check in with you in a little while,” Joey said.
A crowd had gathered on the opposite sidewalk and Penelope could see a couple of phones pointed at them, recording their exchange.
Arlena smiled at Joey gratefully. “I don’t want my being here to draw any unwanted attention to Sonya and her family.” She flicked her eyes at the crowd on the sidewalk then tilted her chin away and pulled on the bill of her baseball hat.
Joey nodded. “You guys drive or walk here?”
“We walked down and Nadia took the train over from the city,” Penelope said.
Nadia turned her back to them and fixed her gaze on the cafe. “When can we get our things back?”
Penelope could make out her and Arlena’s purses on the patio, along with a few other bags, phones, sunglasses, and other personal items strewn across the ground among the tipped over tables and chairs and the smashed flower pot.
“After the team inside is finished, we should be able to release your items back to you,” Joey said.
“But my wallet, my keys,” Nadia protested. “How am I supposed to go anywhere without them?”
“You can stay with us as long as you need to,” Arlena said. “We’re just a few blocks away. I trust the police will get our things back to us quickly.”
Nadia seemed about to protest, but after a few seconds gave in with a weak shrug. “I guess that’s my only choice at the moment. The paramedic said I should go get an x-ray. I told him I didn’t think it was broken or anything.” She held her wrist limply in her hand.
“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Penelope said.
“I don’t even think I have to go,” Nadia said, sighing. “I’ve jammed it worse in the past on the court.”
“You’ve got the movie coming up, and lots of training in the next couple of months with Arlena. Maybe it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Penelope urged. She watched the paramedic guide Mr. Eames into the back of the ambulance. “You want to ride with them and I’ll meet you there?”
“Sure, if they have room,” Nadia said. She went over and spoke to the EMT as she jumped down from the back. Penelope saw her nod and guided Nadia inside the ambulance, then closed the doors.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” Joey said. He gave Penelope a quick kiss on the forehead and nodded at Arlena, then headed for the front door of the cafe.
Chapter 4
Penelope surveyed the waiting room at Glendale’s Medical Center. Rows of faded blue bucket seats were harnessed together, anchored by tables on each end, with only a few empty seats available. A large flat screen television was bolted to the wall opposite the intake area where two receptionists greeted incoming patients. Penelope walked to the edge of the room and leaned against the wall.
She gazed at the TV and watched a smiling woman with long red hair on a set designed to look like a home kitchen, slicing squash and sliding it into a simmering pot, making frequent eye contact with the camera. A caption below her announced she was preparing her version of Ratatouille with fall vegetables. Penelope watched with interest, silently critiquing the chef’s knife skills while she waited for news about Nadia.
A woman stood up on the far end of the room, her back to Penelope. When she turned her head, Penelope recognized her as the mother of the small children from Sonya’s. She stepped gingerly down the aisle and headed toward the restroom on the opposite wall from the one Penelope leaned against. After she pushed through the door, Penelope thought for a minute, then crossed the room and followed her inside.
Penelope washed her hands in the sink and gazed at her reflection, noticing her eyes were a bit puffy. The young mother came out of one of the stalls and sidled up to the sink next to Penelope’s, flicking her a quick glance in the mirror. A glimmer of recognition flitted across her face, but she stayed silent.
“How are you doing?” Penelope asked.
The woman’s expression shifted in the span of a few seconds from fearful to angry. “As well as you can expect,” she said quickly, then her features softened. “I appreciate you trying to help us back there. We should have followed you out instead of going inside. Were you hurt?” She looked at Penelope’s arms and hands in the mirror, as if searching for injuries.
> “I wasn’t hurt. I’m waiting for my friend,” Penelope said. She turned off the water and pulled a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall. She handed it to the woman and tore one for herself. “How are your children?” Penelope asked gently.
The woman sighed and wiped her hands. “They’re okay. Luckily my parents live close by, so they took them home. My husband has a concussion, his forearm is fractured. They want to monitor him here overnight.” The woman vibrated with a nervous energy.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Penelope said. “I’m glad the children weren’t hurt. I’m Penelope, by the way. I live over on the north side.”
“Kelly Leterneau.” The woman pressed the paper towel to her lips and blotted them a few times. “I think he would have if he’d gotten the chance. He didn’t have any regard for us, even the children,” she said darkly. “I looked in his eyes. I didn’t see anything there, no compassion.”
Penelope crossed her arms loosely over her chest and leaned against the wall. “Do you remember him saying anything? Like why he was in that particular place?”
Kelly thought for a moment, then threw her paper towel in the trash bin behind them. “It was all gibberish, what I heard.”
“I heard he spoke Russian maybe,” Penelope said.
“I guess. I don’t know it, but it sounded something like that,” Kelly said. “He did seem to want money. Especially valuable items like our purses. I just don’t understand the brutality. We would have given up our things.”
Penelope thought about Nadia and her expensive bag. Maybe not everyone.
“Did it seem like he’d been in the cafe before? Like he knew Sonya?” Penelope asked. “I still don’t understand why her place became their target.”
“Maybe,” Kelly said. “I don’t know. When he hit that woman on the arm, we knew we had to hand over our things. He went right for her, no hesitation. The sound of that stick against bone was sickening.” Kelly reached out and steadied herself against the sink.
Murder on the Rocks Page 4